Are We There Yet?

Chapter 4 in the Times of Amma Story.
Honest Dispatches From The Trenches of Motherhood

Oh my God, dear readers, I have left you hanging on a cliffhanger for so long that I am just going to answer the question at the end of the last chapter.

It wasn’t. But also, it was!
If that leaves you confused, zip here quickly to read the first three chapters of my Motherhood journey and come back! (Ch1, Ch2 and Ch3)

Done?
Ok, then onward.
The question was — Was it time? And the answer, well, you already read the answer.
So there I was, one day before Christmas, an enormous belly in front of me, propped up on my elbows, experiencing a tightening of my belly and feeling like this was it.
My husband and I piled into our car, along with my Mother. My husband and I go into an examination room in the Gynecology department carrying a go-bag that has been packed forever because I’m that kind of person. The nurse in charge examines me. My Doctor is not at the hospital because, like I mentioned, it is the day before Christmas, and she is at home with her family. The Doctor will come in based on how far along I am. The nurse straightens up again after a quick examination. I am definitely in labour, but my dilation has barely begun.
She looks at me with a smile.
“Ma’am, It could be hours from this point. I’ll let the Doctor know. But I recommend that you head back home and rest and return in a while. If we check you in now, the hospital policy is to put you on a clock, and if you haven’t had the baby vaginally in 24 hours, then we’ll have to do a c-section. If you stay nearby, go home. Walk as much as you can. But also rest! Because once active labour starts, you will need all your energy.”
I felt disappointed and frustrated as I rolled off that bed and held my husband’s hand to head back home. When would this baby come? I was tired of carrying my massive belly around and feeling hormonal and snappy.
I couldn’t meet the sympathetic eyes of my family as I walked back home again.
“You are almost there! Don’t worry,” they all murmured, almost harmoniously, as I waddled into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. It was afternoon, and despite the tightening sensations around my belly, I somehow fitfully dozed.
The evening came and went uneventfully, and the next thing I remember was waking up on Christmas Day with the same intense feelings of contractions squeezing, squeezing me and a sense that my body was hard at work. I go into the bathroom to splash water on my face and end up losing my mucus plug. It was like a guard waving a green flag at a train engine. Within minutes, I could feel the contractions intensifying.
I changed into a loose dress.
Spaghetti straps and bands of lime yellow, green and brown — one of the few that will fit me anymore. We have been timing the contractions. They are almost 50 seconds long and 3 to 5 minutes apart. We head back to the hospital as fast as we can. My Mother has laid towels on the car seat to protect it as if she is scared the baby will come now. Right now. What if the baby is born in the car? What if we don’t have time to even get to the hospital?
Don’t worry, dear reader. We make it alright. The baby is not born in our car, and my Mother can heave a sigh of relief for our car seats.
The hospital is decked up for Christmas. A giant fake Christmas tree with lights and Christmas ornaments towers over everyone from one corner of the lobby. The air conditioning is on full blast, as it is the Philippines, after all, even though it is December. We make our way to the Gynecology department. It’s the same nurse as before. I cross my fingers as I ease onto a bed to get examined.
“Yes, you definitely lost your mucus plug! But the dilation needs to be more before we admit you. Keep walking, keep resting, and we’ll check you again in two hours, ok?”
I repress my frustration and get off the bed again. What was happening? Was I in some bizarre version of groundhog’s day? Was I stuck in a loop? I felt like I was caught in suspended animation, doomed to be pregnant forever, whereas all the other expectant mothers, those who came before me and after me would be able to leave with their babies.
“I’m not going home to wait!”I stubbornly told my husband.
“I can’t walk in and make small talk with everyone and ignore the fact that all everyone wants is for the baby to come and then look at me. I feel useless!”
My husband rightly recognized that I was having a meltdown and readily agreed to staying around the hospital.
“Let’s walk. Let’s just walk slowly around the hospital for a while. Then we can go and get some lemonade or maybe a piece of cake at the canteen. But let’s walk first.”
I agreed. We made our way to the sidewalk and started walking counterclockwise around the hospital. Left from the lobby, walk to the corner of the block, then turn left where the sidewalk slopes up, then puff up, past the parking entrance at the back, across from the cash and carry supermarket where shoppers laden with last-minute Christmas bulk shopping look at us suspiciously, then left again to the back entrance of the hospital where guards graciously waved at cabs and drivers to pause for use to cross and continue on. And then all the way down and left to the front entrance again. We walked and walked till my husband gently said that it was time to rest. We headed back in, and I looked over at the nativity scene that had been put up in early December. Over the course of my prenatal check-ups, I’d seen them build the nativity up. The cowshed was set. Mary and Joseph came into the picture. Then, an assortment of animals. The three wise men had been placed, all holding gifts that I always thought were extremely impractical for a newborn babe and Mom. Men! But the tiny woven crib had remained empty. Except now, the baby had finally arrived. Christmas Day was officially here.
Hoping that this was a sign, I crossed my fingers as we went back to get checked yet again. The nurse straightened up and nodded.

“The Doctor is on her way! It’s time to check you in.”

This is it, I thought. I’m going to waltz in, roll, if I’m being honest, into that birthing suite and come out in two ticks with a baby in my arms and this massive belly a thing of the past.
Reader, I cannot tell you how much I pity that version of me as I remember this. I was about to learn multiple hard lessons in one swoop. And that is definitely a story for next time!